Claiming His Wife. Diana Hamilton

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СКАЧАТЬ ordinary woman with no social skills and about as much sex appeal as a carrot a second glance?—she had waited until the gauche heat ebbed from her face before slowly turning.

      He had been watching her from the foot of the stairs. Watching. Waiting. Her throat muscles had gone into spasm.

      ‘I want to talk to you.’

      ‘Yes?’ Had her expression been intelligent, or just plain dumb? The latter, she suspected, because the slight shake of his dark, handsome head, the very slight abrasiveness of his voice had suggested impatience.

      ‘Not here. In the courtyard, for privacy. Come down.’

      She’d gone; of course she had. If he’d asked her to walk to the North Pole with him she’d have gone without a murmur. And the sun-soaked courtyard had been deserted except for just the two of them, the scent of the rosemary and lavender planted in the centre perfuming the hot air. And his proposal had been the very last thing she’d expected.

      ‘As my mother and aunts never tire of telling me, it’s time I married and sired an heir. They’ve been dangling suitable females under my nose for the past five years and now that I’ve reached the venerable age of thirty-three they’ve stepped up their campaign.

      ‘I tell them to hold their meddling tongues, to put the succession of simpering creatures back into the boxes they dug them out of; I tell them that I will marry the woman of my choosing, not theirs. It makes no difference and, quite frankly, Cass, I am tired of it.’

      At that point he had taken her hand and her whole body had melted, turning her into an amorphous mass of sensation, blanking out every last one of her brain cells. What else could explain the unseemly haste, the total lack of logical thought that had accompanied her acceptance when he’d increased the pressure of his fingers on hers and murmured, ‘I think we could make a successful marriage. You’re young for your years. Don’t take that as a criticism—you lack the guile and artifice that bores me in other women, and I find that very appealing. I do need an heir, and for that I need to marry. I want a woman I can live with, a woman whose primary concerns aren’t the perfection of her appearance, attending parties that take her days to prepare for, or empty-headed gossip.’

      His mouth had indented wryly. ‘The bargain wouldn’t be one-sided. Since the death of your father you’re a ship without a rudder; I gather that he had you convent-educated then used emotional blackmail to keep you at home acting as an unpaid housekeeper. Cass, marriage and motherhood would give you the direction you want. And no need to worry about the debts waiting for you at home—naturally, as your husband, I would discharge them. And for me—’ his eyes had softened as he’d smiled into hers ‘—I would be free of the endless carping from my female relatives. In time, there would be our children to take their meddling minds away from me, and I could get on with my life in peace. And, more importantly, I would have a wife I’d chosen for myself. Will you think about it, dear Cassie?’

      She hadn’t, she thought now, defiantly draining her wine glass. She’d simply accepted him and thought about it later, when it was too late to do anything other than acknowledge the fact that he had married her because she was biddable, undemanding, a creature of no consequence, and someone he could hide in a corner and forget about. Someone to provide him with the heirs the vast Fernandez estates needed.

      Only it hadn’t worked out like that, had it?

      ‘I see Delfina still visits you,’ she remarked coolly to her mother-in-law. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she added, ‘So kind, don’t you think, when sophisticated social events, glitzy restaurants and expensive shops are her natural milieu? Or so she always led me to believe.’

      Before, she would never have dreamed of saying such a thing. She had almost literally withered away whenever her mother-in-law or the aunts had spoken to her, almost always with some criticism or other—the way she dressed, her apparent inability to conceive or keep her husband at her side, her weight loss.

      ‘She has always been fond of my son.’ Don˜a Elvira dabbed her mouth with her napkin. ‘As I said, it has been an uncomfortable time for all of us.’

      Was that sympathy in the older woman’s eyes? Cassie thought so. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Formerly, had she only listened to the words, failing to see the concern for her well-being and happiness that lay behind the apparent criticisms?

      She laid down her napkin, made her excuses, and left the room without even glancing at Roman. Sympathy from a most unexpected quarter wasn’t worth thinking about. Not now. It was over.

      ‘Sis!’

      As Cassie closed the door to the formal dining room behind her Roy emerged from beneath the stone arch that led to the kitchen quarters. It took her two seconds to reach him. She wanted to shake him but he looked so wretched she hugged him instead.

      ‘I couldn’t sit through dinner, not knowing whether you’d persuaded Roman to give me another chance.’

      She had meant to tell him that she’d tried and failed, that he was on his own now and had to take the consequences of his dishonesty, but she could feel his wiry body shaking. Her heart lurched. Her eyes filled with tears.

      In the past she’d fought all his battles for him. Maybe he would have been a stronger character if she hadn’t. Maybe she was to blame for the way he’d messed up his life.

      But how could she fail him now, when he needed her most?

      ‘It will be all right,’ she told him unsteadily. ‘You’ll be given another chance. Make the most of it, though, because it will be your last.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE kitchen was in the older, original part of the house; the stone walls were painted white and the huge black range added to the warmth of the early morning. Asunción, who ran the household and catered for the unmarried estate workers with unruffled efficiency, was kneading dough; two of the maids sat at the other end of the central table, chattering over their toasted rolls and coffee.

      ‘Have you seen Señor Fernandez?’ Cassie asked as her appearance made the housekeeper stop pummelling and the maids fall silent.

      Unless they’d changed their habits during the past twelve months, Don˜a Elvira and the aunts wouldn’t surface until after they’d breakfasted in their rooms at ten. But when he was here Roman was always out on the estate soon after sunrise; she didn’t want to miss him and hang around until lunchtime, getting more nervous and downhearted with every passing second. She wanted to get this over with.

      ‘No, not this morning, señora.’ Asunción planted her floury hands on her wide hips, her small dark eyes sparking with curiosity. ‘Señorita Delfina waits for him also.’ One of the maids smothered a giggle, earning a quick dark look from the housekeeper. ‘If you join her in the courtyard, someone will bring coffee out for you.’

      ‘Thank you, Asunción.’ Cassie retreated smartly, her cheeks burning. Las Colinas Verdes was like a small village; everyone knew everyone else’s business and the affairs of the family were the subject of eternal gossip and conjecture.

      They would all be wondering why the runaway, unsuitable English wife had returned and why el patrón had taken his young brother-in-law out of his comfortable office in Jerez and put him to work like a labourer in the fields. Uncomfortably, she wondered what answers they’d come up with.

      She had no wish СКАЧАТЬ